


father of the year

by transsalfisher



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Other, idk if i like this omen either but that’s up to y’all at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 18:10:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transsalfisher/pseuds/transsalfisher
Summary: He can’t describe the look in his daughter’s eyes. It’s a terrible mix of fear, concern, and pain. He meets her eyes, his brows furrowing slightly. With each passing hunt, it gets harder and harder to leave his family. It gets harder and harder to promise his wife he’ll come back alive. To promise his daughters he’ll come back alive.





	father of the year

“I don’t want you to go on the hunt.”

Gascoigne stops in his tracks, looking over his shoulder at his youngest daughter. 

“What if something bad happens? And we’re left here all alone without you?”

It isn’t the first time Gascoigne has had this conversation with his daughters. It isn’t the first time he’s had the conversation with himself. Since his children were old enough to remember him going on the hunt, this conversation very frequently happened. He never really knows what to say or how to handle it, but he tries his best to quell his daughters’ worries.

“Nothin’s gonna happen,” he says gently, kneeling down to her height. “Nothin’s happened before, has it?”

“Well, no,” she says, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “But something could happen.”

“Anything could happen, sweetness. You have to have an optimistic outlook.”

Gascoigne reaches out and puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. He rubs it gently and meets her gaze, searching her eyes for a moment.

“What’s got you worryin’ so much about this hunt, huh?”

She shrugs and Gascoigne gently lifts her chin.

“Mommy said that they’ve been getting more dangerous.” She murmurs.

“When did she say that?” He asks gently.

“I heard her say it…” She says, almost as if she’s ashamed. Gascoigne raises an eyebrow at her. “When she was talking to you.” She adds.

Gascoigne bites the inside of his cheek. There’s not much privacy in their house. It’s not safe enough for the girls to leave which doesn’t give Gascoigne and Viola much time to talk about serious matters. Even when they’re asleep, there’s still the possibility of little ears listening.

Gascoigne stands with a grunt then lifts his daughter up. He sits on his bed, resting her on his knee, bouncing her slightly. Conversations like these are never easy and Gascoigne has never been to good with his words.

“Is this the last one ever?” She asks, a glimmer of hope in her wide eyes.

Gascoigne hates to crush that hope. That young, naïve hope that still lives inside of her. She doesn’t know just how severe things are outside. She hasn’t experienced it and Gascoigne never wants her to. But, at the same time, he can’t stand to lie to his children.

“Probably not, m’love.” He says, smoothing some soft hair from her forehead. “But, there’s still some hope. Maybe it might be.”

He can’t describe the look in his daughter’s eyes. It’s a terrible mix of fear, concern, and pain. He meets her eyes, his brows furrowing slightly. With each passing hunt, it gets harder and harder to leave his family. It gets harder and harder to promise his wife he’ll come back alive. To promise his _daughters_ he’ll come back alive.

“But daddy’s strong, isn’ he?” He asks with a small smile, trying to alleviate the heavy feeling in the room.

“Yeah,” she says softly, playing with the frills on her dress.

“And I always come back, don’t I?”

“Yeah…”

“So why are you worried, little one?” 

She shrugs and presses her face into her father’s chest. Gascoigne bites his lip, hugging his daughter close. He squeezes his eyes shut, petting the back of her curly locks.

“Mommy seems worried,” comes her muffled voice.

“Well, mommy’s always been a worrier, hasn’ she?” He says, ruffling her hair slightly. “Let me an’ mommy worry, alright? You just keep bein’ the sweet little girl you are. Can you do that?”

She nods and Gascoigne feels her little hands grip at his scarf. He feels dampness start to prick at his shirt and he feels his heart shatter into a million pieces. If he could have predicted the future, if he had known he would have a family of his own, he would have never joined the hunt. He would have never stayed loyal to the church. He would have never let it get this bad.

Deep down inside of him, there’s still a hope. Still hope that Yharnam will finally be purged of this beasthood, that a remedy will be found, that it will all be over with. He knows it’s a long shot, he knows it’s irrational, he’s knows it naïve and childish. So he hides it as deep as he can down in his heart and, when he’s at his lowest points, prays to the Gods for a miracle.

“I can do that,” his daughter answers quietly.

“Good,” he says, rocking her gently. “You’re gonna watch over the house when I’m away, aren’cha?”

“Yeah…”

Gascoigne hugs her close. There’s nothing much he can say to comfort her. There’s nothing much he can do to alleviate the situation. All he can do is try to make the best of it, try to pretend that it’s alright.

“What happens if you don’t come back?” Comes another soft voice from the doorway.

Gascoigne looks up to see his eldest child standing in the doorway, peeking in as if she’s watching something she shouldn’t. Gascoigne holds his arm out to her and she shuffles in, staring at her feet.

“That’s not going to happen,” he says, kissing her temple.

“But what if it does?” She asks, more urgently. “What do we do?”

Gascoigne looks at both of his daughters for a moment. How did he let this happen? Why did he stay loyal to the church? He should’ve stopped the second he and Viola got serious. 

“Your mother and I have a plan, just in case,” he reassures. “We prepared, sweet. We’re going to keep you two safe.”

Both of his daughters hold onto them tightly, his youngest fiddling with the frayed ends of his scarf. The silence is tense and painful. Gascoigne wishes he had something to say to break it, but all he can do is sit and hold his children.

“You’re not going to forget us like last time,” his eldest starts, her voice wavering. “Right?”

“Of course not, sweet.” He says softly. “I’ll come back no matter what. I could never forget about you permanently.”

“When do you leave?” His youngest pipes up, looking up at him through messy curls.

“Not for a few more weeks,” he says. “The last week of the month, no worries. You’re stuck with me for a few more weeks.” He teases.

She nods her head then wraps her arms around his neck. Gascoigne pulls his other daughter in and hugs both of them tightly. How did it get to this point? Why did he let it get to this point? He squeezes them tightly, making a silent wish that the hunt would end entirely in those few weeks.

If he closes his eyes and imagines hard enough, it never even happened. He was just a man with his family. Perhaps, in another life. But not this one.

“Girls!” Viola’s voice sounds from the kitchen. “Gascoigne! Dinner! Come get it while it’s hot!”

Gascoigne lets them go, giving them both a tender kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll be right there, loves. You two go ahead.”

Both of them nod and scurry out of the room. Gascoigne waits until they’re well out of hearing range before he puts his head in his hands. The familiar sting of tears press at his eyelids and he squeezes them shut.

One more hunt, one more hunt and he’ll stop. Just one more.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~wow gascoigne you’re the worst dad~~


End file.
